


Mesmerism

by Dabberdees



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: A little AU of the scene in Spyfall, Gen, Hypnosis, Spoilers, They've always been good at getting into your head, With Graham and O
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dabberdees/pseuds/Dabberdees
Summary: They've always been good at hypnotism, and it's so much easier when another version of yourself has already programmed in a handy four-beat rhythm.
Relationships: The Master & Graham O'Brien, Thirteenth Doctor & The Master, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair
Comments: 15
Kudos: 115





	Mesmerism

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write this with Missy ages ago and then Chibnall did that and I went "whoops"

“So,” O ventures, hand stirring his own tea. “How much do you actually know about the Doctor, Graham?”

Graham pauses, eyes flicking up briefly. He frowns and swallows the current mouthful of food he has. “Well,” He starts, settling himself back into his seat. “She don’t tell us much, really.”

O tilts his head to the side, keen eyes watching Graham as he continues to eat. “Why is that?”

Graham shrugs. “We ask, but she ends up-” He trails off, unsure.

“Ends up, what?”

“Turning the conversation away from herself, you know?” Graham finishes, discarding the porridge that O made up for him in favour of the tea now. He takes a swig from it, finding it earthy, but pleasant. “I asked, and I know Yaz and Ryan have as well, but she tends just to distract us with stuff, or goes on a tangent about something, I dunno.”

O places down his tea and leans back in his seat. “Sounds like the Doctor I know.”

Graham looks over the brim of his mug to him. “How so?”

“Myself and the Doctor go way back,” O reveals. “Longer than you think and longer than she knows, well at the moment anyway.”

Graham frowns at that, this time pulling the mug away completely. “What do you mean?”

O grins, but it’s different this time. There’s no nervous tics or bumbling spy; it’s vicious and dangerous. Unsettling, and warning bells flash in Graham's mind. “Humans are so easy to manipulate, it’s those little primate brains of yours,” O says, voice cold. “But you,” He leans in. “You’ve been under my control before, haven’t you? I can sense it on you, four little beats hidden away in that mush you call a brain. Knew it the moment I laid my eyes on you.” His grin widens. "She really brought a present right to my doorstep, didn't she?"

Graham finds himself frozen, eyes locked on the face of O, now alight with manic glee and confidence. “I-” He screws his brows together, there’s a pressure building, like a migraine, unshakeable and unrelenting. His heart hammers in his chest. “What have you done to me?”

“Now, now, Graham,” O coos, like a mother would do to a squirming child. “I’ve done nothing, well not yet,” His head inclines to the side, and he edges closer, hands reaching to the table. “But I recognise my work anywhere, unmistakable and impressive.”

O smiles and then he brings his hand forward, raising it above Graham’s frozen one. “It’s a simple little pattern, you see-” _Knock_. “Imprinted on my mind-” _Knock_. “By my own people as a child-” _Knock_. “And it’s in that primate brain of yours, isn’t it?” A pause. This time O moves his hand upwards and places it against Graham’s forehead. His hand is unnaturally cool like the Doctor's. “Just four-” _Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._ “-little knocks.”

The moment the final one hits, Graham feels a presence deep within his consciousness, laughing and provoking. Insane, screaming with rage and different voices at once. It's enough to make him lean forward, gasping.

“There we go,” O smirks. “Oh, and of course, a little bit of persuasion in your food and drink.” He nods to the tea and porridge.

Graham, no matter how much he wants to yell for the Doctor, who is currently deep within her TARDIS, or Ryan and Yaz, outside, he can’t. His mouth his forced shut, hand moving by itself in the same four pattern rhythm of dread against the table. _Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._ Graham groans, pain building while he tries to fight whatever it is O has done to him.

“You’re probably wondering who I am, aren’t you?” Graham flicks his eyes back up to O’s face, finding it still grinning at him. “I am _the Master_ -" He intones, voice commanding Graham to pay attention. "-and you will obey _me_.”

Graham’s left hand tightens at his side, jaw clenching tightly, and heart still rapidly beating in his chest. It's echoes in his head. _Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._ Repeating. _Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

“You’re welcome to speak, Graham,” The Master suggests, leaning back and picking up his tea, sipping it. “Afterall, I need you to-” His free hand wavers in the air. “Report back, if you survive what’s coming, that is.”

“She’ll stop you,” Graham ventures, finding relief when the pressure in his jaw relents. “She always does-”

“Does she?” The Master says. “You said you didn’t know her, so could you know?”

Graham frowns. “I did, but I’ve seen her work and save people, or she at least tried-” He rambles, finding the words flowing freely and without thought or fight. “She stopped Tzim-Sha and that Dalek-”

“What's Tzim-Sha?” The Master asks. "I don't need to know about the Dalek."

“Blue alien, Stenza,” Graham explains. “The bastard killed my wife when we met her-”

“You have a dead wife?” The Master smirks and Graham bristles. “My, the Doctor does have a habit of entering your insignificant little human lives and turning them upside down, doesn’t she?”

“It wasn’t her fault though,” Graham says with honesty, although freely to the Master. “I don’t blame her.”

“You could blame her, though,” The Master proposes. “That would be fun, but pointless, because I need you to be yourself, unexpected and unknown. The bumbling _idiot_ who points out what is in front of him and others.”

“Why?” Graham asks. Internally the insult hurts, but his dignity really isn’t his top priority at the moment, not when some madmen is talking to him, asking him questions like they’re old friends. With each passing second though, the urge to fight trips, losing ground to the point that Graham doesn't notice the oddity to it.

“I won’t be playing this little role for very much longer, I’m afraid, and if you do all manage to escape what I have planned for you, well, I’ll need you for the future, won’t I?” His head tilts again. “The others, Yaz and Ryan, they’re a little harder perhaps, younger and stronger minds.” The Master says, mournfully. “You were an adult when a previous regeneration of myself programmed the knocks into your brain.”

Graham brows furrow together, and he nods, accepting the order and comment without complaint. “I guess that makes sense.”

The Master leans back into his seat again and stares at Graham, face morphing back into a kind expression. “Now you will forget this little conversation we've had and any subsequent ones we do have.” He says, standing up and taking away Graham’s tea. “We’ll start from the beginning, okay?”

“Yeah,” Graham nods, gaze locked against the Master while he makes a new tea after tipping the previous one away.

The Master fills the mug with the same milky-brown liquid. “Where were we?” He muses. “Oh, yeah, I was telling you how I exiled myself here, wasn’t I?”

Graham nods again. “Yeah.”

“So how about we start from there,” The Master suggests. “With what you were going to say after learning about that.”

Graham nods for a third time, finding the pressure, knocks, and laughter fading quickly. He blinks a few times, shaking his head and then looking back up to the Master. “You chose to exile yourself here?”

“Yeah,” The Master says, bringing over a mug filled with tea and a plate of toast.

“Ta, thanks,” Graham says as soon as the Master places the food and drink down. He brings the tea upwards and looks over to The Master. “You never get lonely?”

“Yeah,” The Master replies. “But it’s for the best.”

“Right,”

“How long have you known the Doctor, Graham?”

Graham looks over to the side for a moment before placing the tea down again. “Well, that’s a tricky one to answer that,” He says. “You see, things never really happen in a straight line with the Doc.” Graham gestures towards the Master. “How much do you know about her?”

“A bit,” The Master says. “Our paths crossed very briefly once, when she was a man.”

“When she was a what?” Graham asks quickly and over a mouthful of porridge.

“Has she never mentioned that?”

Graham wipes at his mouth and stares at the Master. “I thought she was joking!”

“You got any idea where she’s from?” The Master asks, a glint in his eye.

Graham picks up the tea again. “Well, we try to ask, but she just changes the subject, you know?”

The Master smiles at Graham, eyes locked against his face. “I am the Master, and you will obey me, Graham.”

The older looking man freezes again, not like before, this time he sits there awaiting orders like a good little soldier. “I’ve got a whole shelf over there all about the Doctor,” The Master says, pointing it out to Graham. The older man turns around to look, tea still held within his grip. “Everything I could gather. A lot of inconsistencies, but it’s very, very interesting.” Graham turns back around again, blank face locked on the Master. “Do you want to have a look?”

Graham stares at the Master, mouth moving to open, only to stop when the TARDIS doors swing open. The Doctor walks out with a jug filled with a liquid. “Come on, you two.” She says, missing the frustrated look on the Master’s face when he turns away from her. “Everyone out front. Lots to catch up on. I made iced tea.” Pause. “Possibly.”

Graham turns and faces the Doctor, eyes tracking her leaving the shack. He turns back around again to stare at the Master.

“She has a habit of interfering when I don’t want her to,” The Master muses, sighing. He stares at Graham. “You don’t have a chance to look now, but if you survive-” He starts to command. “-I want you to dig into her past, find out what she’s hiding.”

“I can do that,” Graham responds. “What should I do with it when I find it out?”

“Confront her or not, I don’t care,” The Master explains. “No, what I want is for you to sow seeds of distrust between the four of you.”

Graham’s brows knit together in evident confusion. “Why?”

“The Doctor alone,” The Master speaks, a smile on his face and eyes alight with glee. “Is so much easier to hurt when she doesn’t have her pesky little pets hanging around, and-” He leans in again. “What’s better than having her little pets turn on her this time around?”

The Master pulls away again, now standing and turning to the door. “Now come along Graham,” He orders. “We’ve got a little bit of catching up to do, haven’t we?”


End file.
